Wizard University
by Dreamer012
Summary: The summer after the seventh book Harry and his wizard/witch friends are going to University. Much drama and romance later - maybe some Draco Malfoy  Please review!
1. Introduction

**Harry Potter at Wizard's University with his schoolfriends, the summer after the events of the seventh book**

**Disclaimer: I own none of the characters or previous events in their lives**

Ron and Hermione were at it again. Harry leaned back against the seat and closed his eyes as they made out like the world was going to end.

Then again who could blame them? After all, it nearly had.

Harry had spent the summer with the Weasleys, as had Hermione. Ron kept urging her to go back and reverse the spell on her parents but she wanted to wait until her bruises had healed and she stopped screaming every night. She didn't want to freak them out after all.

Harry and Ginny had been inseparable all summer – but she had to return to Hogwarts. He, and many of the other seventh years were off to Uni. His fingers were permanently crossed that she wouldn't find any new loves, but he could not quite convince himself. After all, what did he have that she needed? He may have slain Voldermort, making him irresistible to virtually every other girl on the planet, but Ginny had never particularly cared about that kind of thing.

And that was why he loved her so much. Because she liked him for himself.

The only people he could think of with the same mindset were Ron and Hermione and he wasn't about to get off with either of them anytime soon.

Although, now that he didn't have to worry about getting killed at every corner, he was starting to notice Hermione. Maybe it was the bloom of romance – or the Sun that never stopped shining on the Burrow – but she was glowing. Even without make-up there were pink patches in her cheeks and sparkles that made her huge brown eyes seem even bigger.

Still, Ron would rip his head off his shoulders if Harry even tried it on with her. After all, he had two motives: Hermione and his little sister Ginny.

'Are you alright Harry?' Hermione asked concernedly, managing to tear herself away from Ron long enough to glance at her best friend. 'Don't worry, Ginny was distraught when you left.'

Harry forced a smile. 'Good to know.'

Ron rolled his eyes, trying to get his arms around Hermione again. 'He's fine Hermione. There's another lovestruck boy here if you'd just turn…'

'Oh you.' Hermione gave him a token kiss – but now her attention was on Harry. 'You looking forward to going back to school Harry?'

'Yeah, should be loads of fun,' Harry said dully. 'Stares everywhere I go, girls throwing themselves at me, everyone expecting me to do brilliantly in everything I attempt –'

'You _are _brilliant,' Hermione replied softly as Ron muttered 'You should be used to it by now.'

'Here…' Hermione stood up and moved so she was beside Harry. She looked deep into his eyes – and for a split second Harry leaned forward, his lips leading…

Then she reached over and ran her fingers through his fringe so that it hung over his scar, hiding it from view. 'See? No-one will know it's you.'

Harry couldn't help but laugh, although his heart had accelerated to twenty beats a second when her warm hand had touched his skin. 'Thanks.'

'Don't mention it.' She went back to Ron who, emotionally stunted as he was, suspected nothing. Made a nice change, Harry thought bitterly, remembering all those days he'd been alone in that freezing tent with Hermione and not feeling anything while Ron killed himself with paranoia. He'd had so many chances…

But Harry forced himself not to think about that. Considering that he'd finished off the greatest Dark Wizard of all time before he was eighteen, he really shouldn't have this many regrets.

Then again, he reminded himself, he didn't do it alone.

Right on cue, another dark head peered around the door, except this time the temple bore no angry lightning mark.

Although, as Harry had learned from Dumbledore, it could have.

'Hi guys!' Neville Longbottom beamed. 'How were your summers?'

'Good,' the three answered simultaneously. 'You?'

He shrugged. 'My Gran's over the moon. My parents aren't really up to hearing about it.'

The others shuffled uncomfortably. Hermione, good with sensitive subjects and Neville, eventually spoke up. 'Neville, we never got a chance…thank you for killing the snake. Harry could have never finished him off without you. We owe you so much.'

Neville flushed. 'Don't mention it. It was you three who saved the day – and the world I guess. God,' he added pityingly, glancing at Harry. 'They're gonna be all over you aren't they?'

Harry groaned and looked to the window. Anything was better than staring at Neville's face and knowing that it could have been him sitting here with this stupid scar and wishing Voldermort had just killed him after all.

Not really. But right now all Harry really wanted to do was sleep. Maybe wake up when he was twenty and done with degrees and could start focusing on his career in Quidditch.

Harry couldn't believe he'd once wanted to be an Auror. He'd had enough danger to last him a lifetime.


	2. The Slytherins

**Chapter Two**

Slightly closer to the school, the four of them started discussing what the new Head and teachers would be like. Harry would be well pleased to get shot of Trelawney, Filch, Slughorn and most likely whatever Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher they'd plucked from the gutter this year (another centaur perhaps?) – but those evening visits to Hagrid's hut had always been pleasant, even in the event that Hagrid had picked up yet another new pet – most likely one that would bite off their fingers given half a chance. And there was always that ache in his chest that, when addressed, whispered _Dumbledore._

Even now Harry knew that Dumbledore had died on his own terms and willingly, he still got a sick taste in his mouth when he remembered that rag doll tumbling down from the Divination tower. In a flash of philosophical thought he realized that if this new school had Threstrals there would be not a person in his year that wouldn't be able to see them. Then Harry remembered the pale, lifeless face of Fred and he looked up at Ron who met his eye and immediately darkened, seeing right into Harry's head.

The only shadow over the Burrow that summer had been the absence of the twins: George dealt with his grief by locking himself in his room and going over the staggering amount of money they had made through their joke shop: Weasley's Wizard Wheezes.

'I swear he's got OCD,' Ron related gloomily to his family after being sent up with another tray of food that would come down untouched. 'He keeps muttering '127, 128 – no that's not right let me start again…'' - a depressingly accurate imitation of George's ramblings. The mood wasn't lightened by Mrs Weasley's idea of saying grace: 'We thank you Lord for your gifts we are about to receive – and thank you for letting us keep Fred's body where so many others were not so lucky'. Then she and Ginny and Hermione would burst into tears while the boys looked across the table to each other and prepared themselves for a dinner where to eat anything would seem offensive.

When they got off the train Harry's heart sank: there were the Thestral's ready and waiting to take them to their new abode. He heard his other classmates gasp and Seamus Finnigan exclaim 'So that's what they look like!' and then hastily shut his mouth when he remembered why so many of them could see the strange creatures now.

Harry clambered into a carriage with Neville, Hermione, Ron, Seamus, Parvati and Padma Patil, and Luna Lovegood.

Oh no. Apparently over the summer Neville and Luna had got it together. They weren't as flamboyant about it as Harry's good friends but they did hold hands shyly as if they were just getting used to each other.

'Where's Dean Thomas?' Luna piped up and the twins winced.

Seamus's mouth set in a straight line. 'His parents don't want him coming back to the wizarding world after the state he came back in last year,' he muttered. 'And he felt guilted because they were really panicking so he's staying for a while to 'placate them',' he quoted. 'As if after what we went through last year he couldn't handle a year at uni –'

A heavy silence met his words and Harry remembered like a thumping blow to the head that Justin Finch-Fletchley was in St Mungo's with very little hope of ever coming out, they had found Lavender Brown's arm and a few fingers, and any number of students (including what Harry could only remember as that bloody irritating first-year with a camera; Colin Creevey) were dead.

Had it really been worth it?

For the second time Seamus fell quiet. The couples hugged each other close and the singles tried to smile at each other although the expression felt wrong on their still-scarred faces.

'What do you reckon uni will be like?' Neville queried desperately.

'Living Hell,' was the unanimous answer.

The carriage drew up outside a formidable building of grey brick just as it started to rain, streaking tears along every window and battering the bricks into grim submission. Harry accepted Ron's help with his trunk but let him do most of the work while he gazed up at this overbearing building and wondered if he could just go back to the Burrow.

It got worse. Loitering around outside were three of what Harry knew must be Slytherins, if only by the snakes slithering up the backs of their black leather jackets.

He caught the eye of one.

Big mistake.

'It's the Chosen One!' they jeered. 'Hey Potter, how's your parents?'

Anger swelled in Harry's chest like hot coals multiplying and he raised a fist.

Luna took his hand as if by accident. 'They're only teasing you because they're insecure.' She gave them a hard stare – or as close to it as Luna Lovegood could manage. 'They thought Voldermort could protect them.'

Two of them appeared to back off – but the biggest burliest one merely sneered. 'Guess you got girls protecting you right Potter? Where's your girlfriend, Granger?'

Now it was Ron's turn to clench his fists. 'Who told you she was his girlfriend?'

'It's all over the Daily Prophet ginger, as if you didn't know.'

'We don't read the Daily Prophet,' Neville said firmly. 'As everyone should know by now, they go out of their way to lie.'

'So what would you suggest, fat-ass? The _Quibbler?'_

The three boys fell about laughing. Luna rolled her eyes, took the other's hands and marched right past them.

When they were inside Ron rounded on Harry. 'Did you tell them you were Hermione's boyfriend?'

'Don't be a prat,' Harry replied coolly, before marching ahead to catch up with Nevile and Luna.


	3. Nasty Surprises

**Chapter Three**

It was more pleasant inside, less like an office block. They were led by a curvy blonde (who introduced herself as Professor Malkim) into a place that reminded Harry so much of the Great Hall that he almost expected the familiar long white beard of Dumbledore waiting up high for them.

Instead he saw a poker face and a close, sharp haircut that screamed STRICT in capitals.

'Her name's Professor Trix,' Hermione muttered along the line of the seventh years – Harry knew it was her because it always was. He wouldn't have had it any other way. 'She's been Headmistress for about forty years and everyone hates her. She monologues like a Shakespearian actor and she's basically unbearable.'

'She sounds like a laugh,' Seamus hissed.

Hermione laughed bitterly. 'After what happened last year she'll probably seem as tame as a freakin' pussycat.'

But Harry did literally get a shiver down his spine when Trix announced in a tinny, pitchy voice like nails on a chalkboard: 'Welcome new students. While you're here I expect you to behave impeccably and work extremely hard. And I don't care' – her stony eyes settled on Harry's head; he could feel her cold gaze from halfway across the room – 'how many Dark Wizards you killed last year. You are my students and you will behave as such.'

Harry felt heat paint his cheeks bright red as everyone turned to stare shamelessly at him. His friends glared daggers at Trix on his behalf and Luna Lovegood said loudly 'Harry Potter is a better person than you will ever be. There is no need to stare at him.'

Harry could have throttled her; he knew she meant well but now the eyes on him were full of malice and cruel laughter. It started out as a low murmur but within minutes the sound of it filled the entire enormous room.

'Silence!' Trix bellowed. 'There is no need to point at him, you will only encourage the feeling of speciality.' Her lip curled on the word and Harry felt a strong desire to throw something at her. It looked like, despite his best efforts, he was going to wind up on as bad terms with his new head as he had been with Professor Snape.

Harry's stomach twisted in on itself. Snape had loved Lily. Snape had loved his _mother. _What if he had married her? What if Harry had got his greasy hair and the house of Slytherin?

Harry looked at the Slytherins. None of them differed enormously in looks or indeed style to those leather-clad thugs outside. The Ravenclaws were neatly pressed and looked like they'd just come out of the dishwasher. The Hufflepuffs were loud-voiced and quiff-haired and appeared to have never worried a day in their life. And the Gryffindors, Harry was pleased to see, were slightly scruffy around the edges but looked like a good bunch to be with. Harry thanked his lucky stars for perhaps the millionth time in his life that the Sorting Hat had changed his mind about Slytherin.

Food appeared on the polished bronze plates before them and they tucked in. The fare wasn't as good as Hogwarts but Harry suspected the house elves weren't treated nearly as well. Trix didn't look like that sort of person.

Subconsciously, Harry patted down his fringe where it had gone into disarray after Hermione had fixed it. Ginny had always brushed it off his face when they were together but he rather liked it hanging over his eyes. After all if he truly hadn't liked it there he would have had it cut long ago.

When dinner was done (Harry hadn't eaten much: hard to break that habit of a grieving household) Trix clapped her hands and everything vanished, just as at Hogwarts.

Then Trix's face grew serious. 'I am aware that many of the new students underwent a lot of bad things last year. Our resident therapist, Professor Stip is always willing to hear you. Now, about dormitory placings…also in light of what happened last year when the Slytherins were, I'm told, quite severely prejudiced against…'

McGonagall's precise words, Harry remembered with a smirk, were 'the dungeons would do'.

'So to combat that I'd like houses to be more accepting of them this year. That is why I am mixing up the houses in dorms. Everyone will have at least one member of Slytherin!'

Outrage swept through the room like the bolt of lightning on Harry's head. The Slytherins moaned, the Ravenclaws sighed, the Hufflepuffs groaned – and Gryffindor got their feet and booed the Slytherins.

'Enough!' Trix screamed. 'File out. You will be shown to your dorms.'

The students stormed out of the room, nearly suffocating a timid-looking teacher holding a clipboard. 'Er…line up everyone while I tell you your numbers…no pushing please…'

As Harry had feared, when he finally got the head of the line the teacher looked positively terrified. 'Harry Potter…my boy I must thank you…'

'Don't bother,' Harry replied bitterly. 'I can quote you. You look exactly like your father but you have your mother's eyes. My number?'

The professor cowered and eventually stuttered 'S-s-seventy seven.'

'Thank you,' was the blunt retort.

Harry marched past him into the now overflowing corridors – and Ron and Hermione nabbed him.

'Gerrof!'

'Harry, relax!' Hermione exclaimed. 'Jeez, last year made you paranoid didn't it? What's your dorm number?'

'Seventy-seven.'

Ron's face fell. 'Eight.'

Harry sighed. 'Figures. Guess I'll see you guys around.'

'Be careful Harry!' he heard Luna's voice shout from somewhere within the crowd. 'You're quite accident prone you know.'


	4. New Defiance

**Chapter Four**

Harry wasn't surprised when he saw his roommates. Of course the sadistic Professor Trix had stuck him with three members of Slytherin.

Then when they turned on his arrival his eyebrows went up slightly. Who knew? They were the three members of Slytherin he had run into outside.

He took the only spare bed and slammed his trunk down on it. He was not giving these jokers the time of day.

They let him unpack, straighten his covers, and even use the bathroom. Then when he came out of it the burly one took him by the collar and slammed him against the wall. 'Alright Four-Eyes' – like Harry hadn't heard that one before – 'here's the deal. You respect us and we don't ruin that pretty-boy face of yours.'

Harry could have lived with that but he didn't want to. He had murdered Voldermort; he didn't have to put up with this shit. He drew his wand and shoved it under the boy's throat. 'No. This is the deal. You respect me.'

The boy swallowed, his Adams apple knocking hard against the wand. 'Or what?'

Harry pressed harder, where he knew the boy's jugular was. 'Sure you want to find out?'

Silence.

Harry nodded and turned away.

A scuffle to his right and he realized someone was running at him. Immediately he whirled around and bellowed _'Crucio!'_

Bellatrix Lestrange had once told him that you had to mean Unforgiveable Curses for them to work. In that one word was all the anger he felt at being away from Ginny, his strange attraction to Hermione, Ron's idiocy, his friends' deaths and the never-recovered wound left by his mother's last scream.

The Slytherin's scream was surprisingly similar. So much so in fact that Harry stopped. Then he walked towards the boy unhesitatingly and reached out a hand. 'Are we clear?'

The boy stared at him. Then he took it and Harry heaved him to his feet. 'We're clear.'

And thus Harry won the first bit of respect in this new place.

The next day was exactly as he'd guessed. Reveration and contempt in equal measure from professors and students alike. Interestingly, the Slytherins, who he'd expected to give him Hell must have been tipped the wink by his roomies because they left well enough alone and let the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs gawp at him and wonder whether it really was true. Meanwhile Gryffindor grinned their heads off because they were the house that had Harry Potter.

Harry wasn't with his friends for many classes, although he bumped into Neville, Seamus and the twins every now and then. But the others were kept away from him and after a few weeks he began to really miss Ron and Hermione.

But every time he started making his way to dormitory eight his studies stopped him: he couldn't believe that even after a year of surviving in the face of the darkest magic in the world he was barely above bottom in most classes – even Defence Against the Dark Arts.

But the teacher was terrible. A gangly, cross-eyed guy called Yip, he droned on like Dolores Umbridge about things that had little if anything to do with…well anything.

At one point Harry raised his hand. 'How will this help us if another Dark Wizard comes out of the ashes?'

A stifled scream swept the room as if they suddenly thought Harry was a Seer like his clueless old Divination teacher Trelawney.

Harry groaned to himself. He couldn't even say something simple anymore. 'Well?'

Yip narrowed his eyes. 'Well. What did you do Mr. Potter?'

The entire room held their breath. They had all heard what had fast become the legend of Harry 'coming back to life' after Voldermort, for the second and last time in his life, had fired the Avada Kedavra curse at Harry's head.

'I went with my gut,' Harry answered defiantly. 'I worked like Hell and I didn't give up.'

'Right. Well I think you might have got lucky. So if you will, you'll stop trying to teach this class and let me advise them on how _best _to deal with Dark Wizards.'

'But –'

'Keep your mouth shut Mr. Potter if you do not want to be kicked out of my classroom.'

Harry did shut his mouth – but he quickly decided that he wasn't going along with this. Didn't he have the best knowledge in this room about defence against the dark arts? Hadn't he, Harry, saved all of these people's lives? What right did they have to tell _him _to shut up? What right did they have to keep him here?

Harry stood, gathering his books.

'What is it Mr. Potter?'

He couldn't resist. 'My scar hurts. I just need to go somewhere quiet and see if Voldermort has any plans of coming back to life.'

The Slytherins were the only ones who didn't take him seriously and it was a strange sense of pride that he heard their sniggers and knew that for once, they were with him not at him, as he'd come to know.


	5. Fire

Harry was sick to the back teeth of school. So sick that sometimes he shoved his fingers down his throat for a little relief. He'd heard Neville was doing the same but for different reasons – reasons similar to why he never ate anymore. Harry had never seen Neville and Luna kiss but now it looked like she was constantly supporting him, even when they were sitting down her arm was always around him, his head on her shoulder, her fringe flopping over both their faces.

Ron and Hermione were as full-throttle as ever and Harry rarely spoke to them anymore since even when he did see them they were literally and figuratively wrapped around each-other like eternity rings.

Seamus drifted like a ghost in the absence of his best friend Dean. He was pale and shaking and always on the verge of tears. Harry sneered at him to his face and crossed his fingers for him when he wasn't looking; he now had a reputation to keep up.

Harry now hung with the Slytherins.

After that day with Yip his roommates had lent him his own leather jacket – along with a pair of skinny jeans so tight that they changed his walk completely; he now swaggered around with a surly expression, looking for all the world as if he'd been fighting on the Dark side last year, rather than the reason the good side had won.

Harry had no regrets – at least that's what he told himself. He couldn't care less that the Gryffindors now glared at him when he passed; that teachers accosted him with disappointed looks and detentions; that people now called him 'Potter' instead of 'The Chosen One'.

After all, that was all he'd ever wanted.

Right?

One thing that hadn't changed was that Harry still sent girls swooning. There was barely a female in the school that he couldn't make weak at the knees – but now Harry gladly took advantage of that.

Almost every night he brought a new girl to his dorm, commanding the Slytherins to sleep outside. He went straight in, straight out, and in the morning kicked her out. Occasionally he would take two at once just to prove he could.

Trix made her rounds of course and there were no locks on the door so many was the time she'd caught him if one of his friends couldn't Confund her quickly enough. She'd shriek and storm and drag him down to the dungeons. She called it 'late-night detention'. Harry called it torture. The Slytherins always came down to break him out (she'd confiscate his wand so he couldn't do it himself) so when Trix came back in the morning he'd be gone.

Harry was treading water above the system. He was close to drowning and he knew it, but he appeared to have become an adrenaline junkie. It wasn't about the sex; he didn't even enjoy it that much. It was about the _thrill. _The _fun. _The _feel _of it; being alive. Why hadn't he ever realized what a blast it was to be alive?

'Harry!'

'Yeah?'

'We're going out!'

'Be right there!'

Another perk of being a Slytherin: the trips to the nearby wizarding village, Kingsty, finally became interesting.

Harry and his new chums donned masks (which most of them had got from their incarcerated Death Eater dads), ran around with torches and set light to whatever could catch fire, whether inanimate or breathing. Harry no longer cared what or who he hurt because screams and flames crackling numbed his own pain. He would have set his fellow Slytherins on fire if he could; he just didn't care anymore.

Because despite what he thought; despite what anyone thought… Harry was nothing more than a dead man walking.


	6. Mudblood

**Chapter Six**

Harry would not have chosen to see Hermione and Ron for the first time in weeks while he and his Slytherins were swaggering out of Potions having just forced a potion down a geeky Ravenclaw's throat that made him choke until he turned blue. Then, his new harsh, sharp bark of a laugh ringing in his own ears like an omen, Harry had kneed him in the stomach leaving a result that wasn't pretty but had at least got the poison out of the boy's system.

As the Snake Mates (terrible name but it wasn't Harry's idea) came out of the door, Harry suddenly felt warm arms flung around his neck, sweet breath blowing in his ear and that curly brown hair he'd so often felt poke him in the eye now like a blanket he'd forgotten he'd ever owned.

'Hermione?'

'Harry, Ron and I haven't seen you for weeks! Where _were _you?'

'Hermione,' Ron muttered, pulling her away. He'd seen what she hadn't: the excruciatingly painful tattoo of a snake that it had been Harry's idea to curse onto the gang member's faces. He said it looked harder. No-one quite dared disagree.

'Ron, you've got to stop being so jeal…'

Hermione stepped back and took a good look. Her mouth dropped open and her whiskey-coloured eyes clouded over until they were as grey as the sea. 'Harry?'

'Hermione, I –'

Harry wanted to comfort her. He wanted to pull her back into his arms and whisper that he loved her – although as a friend or more he had no idea –, that he'd only been trying to stop always being the good guy, that he wanted some fun for once in his life.

Or maybe he'd just wanted some actual acceptance.

But to get it, he had to make certain sacrifices.

'Isn't that…is that Granger?' sneered one of the Snake Mates. 'Ha! Wants you bad, doesn't she Harry? Didn't you already fuck her?'

'Hermione –'

She backed away, her head shaking as if of its own accord, trying so desperately not to believe her ears. 'You…you said…'

Ron rolled up his sleeves, all set to play the hero, Harry noted bitterly. What did he know how it felt to actually succeed at it? That it wasn't all it was cracked up to be.

'Back off Ron!' cried Hermione, before lowering her voice to a broken whisper. 'Potter's not worth it.'

'That's rich coming from you,' snapped Harry. 'You filthy little mudblood.'

A gasp swept the room. Whatever Harry had become, the Gryffindors had never expected that he could go this far. It might not have been particularly ethical to run around setting things on fire but it was far worse by any 'good guy' standards to call anyone, least of all your best friend, a mudblood.

Thank God Harry wasn't a good guy then.

Ron jumped on him but Harry was ready, his wand long removed from his robes. _'Imperio.'_

Ron stopped in mid-air and crashed to the ground, his face completely overtaken by an expression that looked as though he'd overdosed on happy gas.

Harry sneered although he felt a little sick at the sight of his so-called best friend completely at his mercy.

Hermione rounded on Harry. 'Take the spell off.'

'Why don't you do it?' Harry hissed mockingly. 'You're the smart one.'

Hermione closed her eyes like she was waiting to wake up. Then when she opened them they were full of tears. 'Please,' she murmured. 'Just leave us alone.'

'Nice try mudblood.' Harry's friend too reached for his wand. _'Cru –'_

'Stop!' Harry shouted.

Sulkily, Bill stowed his wand. 'Why do you get all the fun, Potter?'

Hermione had turned paper-white on the first letters of the curse and now she still swayed slightly, her breathing shallow and much too fast. But she was still strong. 'Yeah, Potter. I'd rather he cursed me than you.'

Anger the colour of blood flashed in front of Harry's eyes and for a minute his wand-hand twitched.

But he couldn't. He owed Hermione his life a million times over. And Harry was nothing if not a gentlemen.

He sighed heavily and flicked a hand – his conscience twitching as Hermione flinched – signalling for her to take Ron and get out of here.

She hesitated, her pride clearly taking a massive blow as she hissed 'Reverse it.'

Harry rolled his eyes as if it was the easiest thing in the world and snapped his fingers.

Ron regained consciousness. 'Why you –'

'Get it out of it Ron,' Hermione advised. 'Please.'

Ron gave his robes a violent tug back on his shoulders and stormed away, dragging Hermione after him.

_She's not a dog, _Harry found himself thinking aggressively.

_Just a mudblood, _his conscience reminded him.

_Oh shut up._


	7. Luna and Neville

Hermione was terrified. Ever since that day by the Potions room when Harry had called her a Mudblood the Slytherins had been treating her as their toy, whether that was sneering at her, tripping her up or throwing curses at her back when she walked by. Harry had never done more than stare at her but somehow that was by far the worst, with his new stone-cold black eyes. He could hold her gaze for a good ten minutes and she could never summon up the strength to look away.

Her new-found attention was driving Ron around the twist. Somehow he'd got the idea that every boy who fucked with her was just one of the many that she was apparently sleeping with behind his back.

'Stay away from Finnigan!'

'_Seamus _is my friend, Ron and you know it!'

'Shut up you lying bitch!'

'Ron please, I love you –'

'Don't touch me!'

'Ron –'

'_Crucio!'_

Yeah, that was another thing. The Cruciatus (and Imperius) Curse had become a daily routine for Ron to establish power over his girl. The only irony was that, with or without them, Hermione would do whatever he wanted. She loved him so much – and she had lost him once. She was never going to let that happen again. So she screamed when he tortured her and floated when he hypnotized her, even though had she wanted to she had more than the strength to fight the latter away. Actually, the sensation of it was quite pleasurable. She had begun to look forward to that particular spell being practised on her and often he'd make her beg for it. They'd meet in the library after hours and she'd do what he told her until they were both exhausted and aching, and then if she'd done it right he'd wave his wand and make her do more.

Hermione knew this was killing her. Doped up on illegal enchantments, exhausted from her nightly excursions, she was failing all her subjects. Her friends would take her aside regularly and try to get her to talk – but the advantage of Crucification was that it didn't leave scars, and even if it had, she would never tell.

She kind of understood Ron's paranoia about Seamus in particular. She had been treating him with kid gloves as he sent hourly owls to Dean, checking up on him and pleading with him to join them at Uni. And he had trusted only her enough to finally tell her that he was in love with his best friend. So even though that was a perfect alibi for the time she spent with him, she would never betray him like that.

But it was getting increasingly harder to hide her plight – hardest of all to hide it from her psychic (and semi-psychotic) friend Luna.

'You seem very distracted, Hermione. Are you late for something?'

It had become second-nature for Hermione to look behind her for Ron every five seconds. All too often he'd sneak up behind her and tug her hair back so sharply that her neck almost snapped in two. Luna tried to follow her gaze every time it moved but unlike most people it didn't seem to irritate her. In her quiet way, she was only curious.

'No, sorry Luna, you were saying?'

'I was just telling you about this guy called God. Apparently he's very popular among the Muggles. He lives in the sky, see, and…'

Hermione tuned out. Luna was always talking about some non-existent oddity or other.

Unfortunately Luna was very good at picking up on when people weren't listening. 'Are you OK Hermione? I notice Ron's giving out very negative vibes recently, I don't suppose you can feel them too?'

Hermione nearly laughed. Forget negative vibes; it was Unforgiveable Curses Ron was repeatedly sending her way. 'Kind of. It's OK though, I can handle him.'

Luna gave her a quizzical look. 'You shouldn't lie you know, Hermione, it makes my head swim.'

'Sorry. Wait, what?'

But Luna had already nodded her head like all her suspicions had been confirmed, and disappeared.

Hermione wished she could disappear. Because Harry Potter and his sycophantic posse of Syltherins (the ones who had recently decided that she was their personal property) were heading her way.

'Yo, Granger!' one called, holding out his hand as if for a high five. She gave him the stoniest glare she could muster and returned to her food.

'Hey, Mudblood.' A heavy hand clapped her on the shoulder. 'I said hi.'

_Just ignore them, Hermione, don't react._

'Leave her alone guys,' Harry's clear voice carried above the rest. 'She's not worth it.'

'Come on dude, you must have thought she was pretty, you're the one who fucked her.'

Hermione stood up so suddenly that she sent her plate flying. 'Leave me –'

A skinny, hunched shape suddenly stood in front of her. Neville Longbottom, former class clown and current headcase of Gryffindor was squaring up to Harry Potter. 'I think you should leave.'

Harry took a step forward, closing the distance. 'Watch it, Longbottom. I could fuck you up like your parents.'

Neville was so shocked he took a step back. But that didn't last long. In the next instant he was back, and blazing. 'You wouldn't be standing here if it wasn't for me, Potter. And you might want to remind those Slytherins that you killed Voldermort and put most of their Dads in jail.'

One of the Slytherins behind Harry grinned. 'Actually, my Dad's broken out. He sent me an owl and he thinks that there's a possibility that the Dark Lord might still be alive.'

Harry blanched so suddenly Hermione leant forward, thinking he was going to faint. But he shook himself out of it immediately, walking away without another word.

Hermione thanked Neville and hugged him hard, before Luna appeared out of thin air to usher her boyfriend away. 'You sure you're OK, Hermione? You seem very tired.'

'I'm OK.'

The Slytherin who had held up his hand suddenly had Hermione by the shoulder. 'I'll see you again soon, pretty Gryffindor.'

Luna watched as he left with his mates. 'Aren't you going to hex him, Hermione? Didn't we learn that kneecap-popping one a while ago?'

Hermione sighed. And, like Harry, she walked away.


End file.
